


Faceless

by Momokai



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Adorable!Steve, Awesome!Clint, Cool!Natasha, Eventual Stony, M/M, Slash, Teddy Bear!Thor, Tony never came out as Iron Man!, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momokai/pseuds/Momokai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Rogers had first laid eyes on Iron Man, he had been extremely curious. Over time however, that curiosity evolved into something far less…innocent. Who was the man behind the mask? What would that body feel like without the armour? Yes people, Captain America was most certainly not as innocent as they would like to believe. </p><p>Or in which Steve shamelessly obsesses over Iron Man... ON TEMPORARY HOLD due to my muse rolling over and dying. currently working on something else to try and get the creative juices flowing again, sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does sorta take place in the Avengers Movie verse, but with a slight twist. Tony never came out to the public that he was Iron Man. The world, and Team as a whole believe The Iron Man is Tony Stark’s body guard, they do not know that they are one and the same. Hence, slight A.U

.  
.  
.  
.

He was doing it again, and was very much aware of it. It always happened when he was in the same room, always. He was sure the others had noticed, there was no way in hell they couldn’t have, because he was many things; war hero, living legend, valiant, brave, handsome, well-mannered and very much a sweet heart. 

He was not however, very subtle.

He wore a blue body suit with stars and stripes; he was larger than your average Joe, the peak of human potential. He was Captain America. 

‘As subtle as a sledge hammer to the face’ Tony Stark had once told him.

Yeah, there was no way in hell anyone could miss the fact that his favourite pass time seemed to be staring at Iron Man. The armour clad Avenger may or may not have noticed, Steve wasn’t sure, because the other male had never said anything about it, never looked back, never called him out on it, hell he didn’t even acknowledge the fact that the Avengers field leader had eyes for nothing but him. 

Maybe he could pass it off as him listening intently as they were briefed? Iron Man was usually the one to tell them what was going on, what should be done to help the situation, and in some cases explained what button did what and which end to avoid pointing at one’s own foot when he brought in some of his employers new toys. It happened more often than one would think; Tony Stark would send Iron Man in with a new crime fighting doodad nearly every week. 

He watched as the lighting in the room glinted off the shining metal that clicked and shifted with every movement Iron Man made, blue eyes tracing over various curves and dips the suit made over various points, imitating what was hidden beneath. The body underneath the armour was most definitely slim, lithe but muscled from years of fighting off bad guys. Steve’s mouth moistened slightly as his mind conjured up images of what that body must look like without the armour, his imagination running wild as he tried to picture the man behind the armour. He wondered what Iron Man wore under his armour; was there another suit beneath? A protective layer between flesh and hard metal? Leather maybe? Or did he wear casual clothing beneath, jeans and a shirt? Or…was there no need to wear anything at all? His already moist mouth about overflowed at the thought, and he quickly swallowed before he did something even more obvious, like drool all over himself. Who would have thought that something like this would be so…so, -Fascinating? Attractive?- to him. Just a man in an armoured suit provided and ‘trained’ by Tony Stark. Many a time had Steve stared intently at the shining armour, eyes tracing each line and crevice in an attempt to spot anything resembling unprotected flesh or cloth, something other than hard, powerful armour. He was doing it right now, in fact, even though he knew he would not spot anything, no matter how hard he looked, how hard he wished. 

 

Clint cleared his throat beside him, and Steve jumped in his seat as he quickly blinked and looked at anything other than Iron Man, who was standing at the head of the conference table beside a massive screen, red and gold gauntlets gesturing to certain points on the world map that was displayed. He glanced at the archer in thanks, only to blush at the other blonds smirk and shrug. Next to the black clad Avenger, Natasha rolled her eyes heavenward at their exchange and turned back to watch as Iron Man flicked the screen off and stood with his hands on armour clad hips. 

“-all we know for now. S.H.I.E.L.D is working on that, said something about having more on it in a week or so, but be prepared to ship out in a few days, because Mr Stark has already begun looking into it. Any Questions?” The armoured Avenger asked as he folded his arms over the glowing reactor in his chest. Clint raised a hand, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

“Hawkeye?” Iron Man nodded in the blonds direction.

“I think you might have to go over it again.” He said, smirking in Steve’s direction. The war hero’s eyes widened as he looked from Clint to Iron Man in rising panic. 

“Why is that? Did you miss something?” Iron Man asked, raising an armoured hand in an aborted move to rub the back of his neck. Clint shrugged.

“No, but I think the Captain might have, since he was more focused-” He was cut off when Steve abruptly stood, his chair almost toppling over backwards as he cleared his throat. 

“If that is all, I’ve got a…er important errand to run…yeah.” With that, Steve turned on his heel and all but fled the room, aware of everyone’s eyes following him out, and of Clint Barton’s snickering as he hurried up the hall, almost running over Thor, who had just returned from an assignment.

. . .  
. . . 

Steve sighed morosely as he scrubbed a hand through his short, sweat drenched hair. Blue eyes stared at the torn remains of what used to be a punching bag, seven others much like it lined up in the corner not twenty yards away. “Damn it.” He muttered, scrubbing both hands down his face before he leaned forward to tuck his head between his knees. From his position on the floor, back against the white walls of the gym, he was almost invisible in the shadows of the low lighting, which was what he had been aiming for when he collapsed there after his rigorous work out. Sweat trickled down his bare back as his arms circled over his head, hiding his face from the world as it burned red as his thoughts tracked back to the events of an hour ago. 

“I’m so pathetic.” He thought to himself. Clint was a good friend, but the archer seemed to think his obvious obsession –not an obsession damn it!- with Iron Man was funny as hell, and took great amusement in pointing it out whenever the object of his ‘obsession’ was present. 

He had always been fascinated by the armoured Avenger. Since the first day they had met, the red and gold hero had drawn him in with his cocky attitude, flippant humour and complete disregard for his personal safety. Steve had been watching the other male for a long time, simply taking in the graceful sweeps and strides of the armour clad man’s movements, each and every motion seemingly choreographed as he swept about a room or battle zone. The way his armour seemed to hug his body, accentuating what was always hidden from his watchful gaze. Steve seemed to be in a constant daze whenever Iron Man was in the same room as him, eyes always focused on the shining armour, ears attuned to the many subtle clicks and whirs that were a constant when in motion. 

Steve had no idea what the man looked like without his armour, but it didn’t stop his imagination from running wild on lonely nights tangled in the sheets of his large bed, or in boring meetings, as demonstrated an hour ago. Iron Man was a complete mystery to him, and he hated it. He wanted to know the man behind the armour, wanted to know what his voice sounded like without the acoustics of that damn helmet, wanted to run his fingers through hair that was always hidden, to trace and memorise every firm edge, every slip and slope of flesh that was never seen. But most of all, he wanted to know what colour those eyes were, he wanted to be able to look at the man and not see the intimidating white glow of narrow, impersonal slits that often sent foes running, and see the man’s true colours. 

“Jesus Christ.” Steve grumbled to himself, fully aware of how corny that train of thought had sounded, even to his own mind. He was acting like a love sick teenager, and he knew it without Clint constantly pointing it out on those nights they spent drinking copious amounts of alcohol at whatever bar caught their attention. He knew, deep down that he had allowed himself to fall for a man inside a fancy tin can, if there was even a man in there at all. 

If not, he found himself not at all daunted, which just made him want to smash his face against his shield all the more. 

With a long, suffering sigh, Steve stood and made his way to the showers, fully intent on washing the events of the day from his mind with a nice, freezing cold shower. 

. . .  
. . .

It was three days later that something changed.

He still stared, still watched much like any other day, still very much obvious about it no matter how hard he tried to not be. Just the same as every other day of the week…

Tony Stark had dropped by several times in the last three days, and as usual, Iron Man had made himself scarce. Stark had said something about Iron Man not really wanting to ‘know’ his employer, something about professionalism and some sort of dislike for his attitude, even if they were quite similar in some ways. That was another thing Steve had noticed about Iron Man and Tony Stark. While they claimed to not really know the other outside of a professional relationship, they both showed similar antics. They were both quite arrogant at times, and both had a sense of humour that often left everyone scratching their heads. Well, everyone except Bruce, who just snorted at most of what they said.

They both, at different times –obviously- confessed certain likes and dislikes, that while not the same, still seemed to scream ‘similarity’. For example; Stark likes scuba diving, Iron Man says water doesn’t agree with his suit –yet-. Stark has a sweet tooth; Iron Man doesn’t actually eat while in ‘uniform’. Stark loves fast cars. Iron Man was faster than any car, but did admit to reading a few car magazines to gawk at designs and models. Stark enjoys alcohol; Iron Man doesn’t fly under the influence –most of the time- and so on. While different answers to the same question, Steve realised that they were actually the same. Just because water didn’t agree with his suit, didn’t mean Iron Man didn’t like water. Just because his suit prevents him from partaking in a sweet –not without giving away his identity anyway- did not mean Iron Man did not in fact like sweets. The list goes on.

Likes and dislikes aside though, their attitude was almost identical, but then it wasn’t. While Stark was boisterous about his feats and designs, Iron Man didn’t brag about ‘the one time he took down this or that with one hand’. While Stark was popular with the ladies -and loved it-, Iron Man actually edged away from any woman that tried to jump him on the streets while his face plate failed to show the pleading look he was no doubt sending his way. It was strange. Every time Steve tried to compare the two, one or both of them would go and do something to blow his theories out of the water.  
Then they’d do something to keep them afloat, only to sink them again, and so on. 

Quite honestly it was beginning to drive a few of Steve’s screws loose. 

Then there was the attraction. He would admit, if only to himself that Tony Stark was quite the looker, and he had fantasized about the man a time or ten, not ashamed of the fact, while yes, same sex pairings back in ‘his day’ were frowned heavily upon –and sometimes persecuted for- he was not above it himself. He had caught himself looking a few soldiers up and down while not so innocent thoughts raced around in his head, back in the 40’s. He had even checked a few men out after settling into his new life in this seemingly new time. Clint Barton, or Hawkeye, had caught his eye once or twice when they’d first met, and the man, as his friend had known it, often teased him about it. He’d thrown a glance Bruce Banner’s way a few times, but the lingering, unconscious thought that the man could go green and flatten him if his glances were taken the wrong way often turned him in the other direction. Quite quickly. Thor was just…no for some reason, while yes, the God was very easy on the eyes –very easy-, the thought of anything like that with the Norse God had him snorting to himself in horrified amusement. To be honest Thor was too much like a big, blue eyed blond teddy bear to be taken seriously. Unless you know, he threw his hammer at you, then it got serious…fast. He knew from experience, that hammer was not a good thing to get hit with.

But his eyes were mostly, if not all of the time glued to Iron Man, the one man he could not actually get to look at. The man’s employer caught his eye enough times to rate as ridiculous, but Iron Man was his main focus in that department. It was driving him mad and he’d readily admit it to whoever was smart enough to ask just why Captain America was twitching and muttering to himself like some escaped mental patient as his theories chased facts around in his head like a dog chasing its tail. It really was taxing on his grip on reality, because honestly? He let it, because he must already be mad if he sometimes found himself incredibly hard just from watching Iron Man randomly poking at himself to make sure everything was functioning as it should.

His mind was a dark, dirty and decidedly kinky place if that was the case. Captain America, innocent? Ri~ght, and the Hulk was a pink ball of sunshine and daisies. 

Steve blinked, then glanced at the can of soda in his hand, faintly wondering if there was something new in it at that thought. Snorting, the blond downed the last of his drink and stood from his hunched over position at the kitchen counter, dumping the empty –and thoroughly crushed- soda can in the bin. He’d just come in for a cold drink after his morning jog, -who cares if soda isn’t the healthiest choice?- and was about to head down to the gym for a good long workout when something blocked his path out of the kitchen.

A red and gold something.

“Going somewhere, Cap?” The armour clad Avenger asked, and Steve swallowed thickly, the blue glow from the armours chest lighting up his throat, seeming to accentuate the action. Steve opened his mouth to say something –anything- but flushed a deep red when only a squeak escaped his lips. Another reason he preferred to watch Iron Man from a safe distance. The man’s proximity did things to him. Nothing and no one could ever hope to do to Captain America what Iron Man could just by standing in front of him. Quickly clearing his throat, Steve took a step back, his hands rubbing the sides of his running slacks nervously, breath caught in his chest.

“Just, heading to the gym.” He manages not to squeak this time, and he inwardly sighs in relief as he snags a breath of air. Iron Man cants his head to the side, and the breath Steve had just managed to get leaves his lungs in a stuttering ‘whoosh’ at the very predator like action.

“Mind if I join you?” The other Avenger asks, voice decidedly low even in the suit. That would mean sparring, right? That would mean Steve touching the object of his obses-affection. A lot of touching. Steve’s mouth goes dry and he fights the rising panic. 

“Oh god why me?” He thinks desperately, trying to will his body to calm the hell down as images assault his already fried brain. 

“…You don’t look so good Captain, maybe you should sit down?” Iron Man purrs, stepping forward. Steve gulps, blue eyes wide as he takes a step back for every step the other male takes forward.

“Me? No, I’m fine, really,” Steve babbles as he edges backwards. “-no need to-you know? Maybe I do feel a little off, I should just go...you know…lay dowa-hey!” Steve yelps as warm metal clad hands clamp onto his bare shoulders –why did he have to go jogging shirtless today, why?- to force him down into the chair he had not long ago vacated. -Did he mention those hands were warm? How is metal warm?-

“Hmm, you seem tense Captain.” Steve shudders at the way his codename is purred down at him, and his mind runs in circles at the implications. What the hell was going on? Had someone spiked the damn soda without him noticing? Was he passed out on the kitchen floor dreaming about being accosted by fucking Iron Man in broad day light? Oh god if he was he prayed he wasn’t drooling, or you know hard. If someone found him like that, his life was over. A sharp click in front of his face startles Steve out of his thoughts and he almost goes cross-eyed at the fingers inches from his nose. “With me, Captain.” Iron Man orders, metallic voice doing things it most definitely shouldn’t be doing to him. 

“Er.” Steve starts as the armour leans in closer, crowding into his personal space. He swallows. “W-what are you doing?” He asks, blue eyes fixed onto the glowing white slits that were staring him down. 

This was not happening. 

“Why Captain, I didn’t think you were so dense.” Iron Man says lightly, before promptly straddling Steve’s lap, causing the steel chair to groan in protest. Steve doesn’t even notice how heavy the suit is on his thighs, all he can think about is the fact that Iron Man was sitting in his lap as if it were a completely normal thing for him to do. Steve’s hands twitch almost spasmodically at his sides, arms stiff as boards on either side of him, back ram rod straight, legs locked in place and blue orbs riveted to the steady glow of Iron Man’s ‘eyes’. “Caught on yet?” He asks, voice still light. Steve swallows thickly, body twitching in the seat. He wanted to move, to touch but forced himself still. For all he knew this was some sort of test, that the Man of Iron had known about his obsession all along, and was simply fucking with him. 

Steve’s brain stuttered to a halt at his own wording. Actually, he wouldn’t really mind if Iron man decided to fuck with him, minus the ‘with’. 

“-tain? Captain? Steve!?” Steve snapped out of his daze to find the red and gold face plate inches from his nose. “Oh good, you are present, for a moment there I thought I’d broken you.” Iron Man says, leaning back slightly. Steve shakes his head to snap himself further out of his daze.

“I think you have.” He croaks, before snorting to himself, amused and more than slightly annoyed at how pathetic he was being. Yes, the object of his obsession had decided to perch itself in his lap, yes it was driving him insane, yes he was most definitely hard, and yes he was most definitely about to snap, no reason to go and have a nervous breakdown or anything…

Iron Man tilts his head again, and Steve can practically feel the smugness radiating off the man in waves. He could also feel how dead his legs were getting too, actually. 

“Hmm.” Iron Man hums, adjusting himself in Steve’s lap, boots bracing on the floor on either side of ‘their’ chair to take some weight, allowing blood to circulate back into Steve’s legs. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed?” He asks suddenly, causing Steve to blink up at the blankly staring face plate. “Did you think I haven’t seen the way you watch me?” He continues, and Steve feels his mouth go dry once more. Iron Man tsk’s at him as he leans forward, once more crowding into his personal space. Steve doesn’t lean back. 

“Tell me, Captain, have you noticed the way I watch you?” The question startles Steve, and his already wide eyes widen further. He opens his mouth to ask just what the heck he meant but was cut off. “Of course you haven’t, because unlike you I know how to be subtle about it.” It’s snickered, and Steve’s face heats up as he looks away, grumbling. Iron Man leans back and laughs, and Steve can feel it in his thighs as the suit vibrates with it. 

Just as suddenly as the laughter started, it stops and Steve gasps as the hands on his shoulders –how had he forgotten they were there?- slide down to run over his bare chest, splaying over his already hot skin. He can feel the ridges and slopes on the palms of the gauntlets, knows what kind of damage these hands can do when in this position, fingers spread, palm out. He shudders violently at the thought, inwardly horrified that the thought turned him on. He’d never been this turned on in his life; he was so hard it hurt. 

The warm metal heats further against his skin, and one metal clad hand shifts. Steve swallows hard, closing his eyes tightly as he fought to regain some semblance of composure. A series of clicks and whirs startles him, and blue eyes snap open as a light ‘thunk’ sounded beside him, and he glances at the table slightly behind him to see a red and gold gauntlet sitting innocently on its surface. His eyes are fixed on the gleaming metal, mind running rampant at the fact that Iron Man had taken off a piece of his armour. Something soft and warm touches his chin, and he blinks in shock as his face is gripped and turned back to stare into glowing white. The bare hand against his chin shifts, warm fingers trailing feather light down his throat, caressing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. 

“Such a curious thing, aren’t you Captain?” Iron Man asks as his fingers slid over his Adam’s apple, that bobs as he swallows. The fingers rise from his throat to trace along his jaw, moving to stroke his cheek. Steve shudders at the intimate touch, hands twitching again as the urge to touch back grows. “Always watching me. Always aware of me. Why, Steve? Why do you watch me like that? Like you are now?” The question is asked softly, and Steve’s eyes trace the lines of the face plate in front of him for the thousandth time, wishing he could trace the lines of the face beneath just once. Why did he watch Iron Man like he did? He knew the answer, but he didn’t know how to say it. He had always been good with words, but this time nothing came to mind, no words to express, no words to answer.

“I just do.” The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it. “It’s like…something comes over me, I can’t help it.” He continues, finally finding some words in the wake of his answer. “I try to imagine…What you look like underneath.” He says, vaguely aware of how perverted that must sound. “What your voice sounds like without the suits speakers…What your expressions are like, what your smiles like…” He really should stop himself from continuing, but he can’t, it’s like he really was broken, unable to stop himself from ruining their friendship with words and admissions that might actually freak the other out. “What colour your eyes are…” His efforts to stop are in vain, it seemed. The fingers that had paused over his cheek bone drift lower, soft, warm tips brushing the corner of his mouth, before stroking over his bottom lip, slow and gentle.

“You already know.” Iron Man says, entirely too cryptic to Steve’s dazed mind. Steve frowns up at him in confusion, and Iron Man tilts his head to the side once more, the motion somehow...amused. “Oh you know exactly what I look like, Captain.” He continues, warm fingers retreat from his lip to scratch playfully between his scrunched brows. “You’ve seen me around; you just didn’t know it at the time.” Iron Man says, the smirk audible in his words. Steve opened his mouth to say that no, he’d know if it was him but was stopped by a finger pressing firmly to his lips. “You know, Steve.” He says softly, removing his finger. 

Did he? No, he didn’t. Steve would know, he would have to, he’d see it in the way he moved, the way he spoke. He would just instinctively know! He doesn’t notice as a second ‘thunk’ sounds behind him, but he does notice when two blessedly bare hands cup his cheeks and in a gentle but firm hold. 

“Don’t over think it, you always over think things, you’re almost as bad as me and that’s saying something.” The armoured Avenger says, amused. Steve’s still caught up on the hands holding his face. There really was a man beneath the suit. Anything else that could have been said or done was stopped by a shocked gasp from the doorway, and Steve remembered that they were in the kitchen of Avengers Tower and that yes, there were actually other people in it as well. Iron Man doesn’t even twitch at the interruption; he simply sighs and turns his head to see whoever was in the doorway. Steve leans slightly to the side, peering around the bulk of armour in his lap to see none other than Clint Barton standing in the doorway, blue eyes wide as he stared at them.

Clint cleared his throat and proceeded to enter the kitchen, quickly walking to the cupboard, where he retrieved a large pack of crisps before turning on his heel and disappearing out the way he had come as if he hadn’t just walked in on Iron Man straddling Captain America. Iron Man snorted and turned back to Steve, who glanced back at the doorway just in time to see Clint reappear, munching on a crisp, the other blond simply smirked and popped another crisp in his mouth before giving him a thumbs up while turning to disappear once more, letting the kitchen doors swing closed behind him.

“That was…awkward.” Iron Man says before dropping his hands from Steve’s cheeks. Steve tries not to let the wave of disappointment get to him as the heavy weight on his legs shifts and disappears. “That’s enough excitement for one day I think.” Iron Man says, voice cracking suspiciously as he stands, gauntlets replaced, and Steve can hear the shudder that wracks through the metal with the words. Was he…did he just? Oh… 

Steve’s mind fizzled a little more as he watched Iron Man walk towards the doorway, his gait slightly off. “Until next time, Captain.” The man throws over his shoulder before disappearing through the doors. Steve sits there in silence for a good five minutes before he glances down at his lap.

And curses.

. . .  
. . .

One would think a person would avoid the object of their obsession after an encounter like that, but low and behold, a week later nothing differed. Actually, it did, now Steve didn’t just watch Iron Man, he watched everyone. He looked for clues, for nuances, the small things that would give someone away as Iron Man. He watched men that weren’t present whenever Iron Man was; he watched them with an intensity that had Hawkeye laughing something about ‘young grass hoppers’. He didn’t really care; Clint didn’t deserve his watchful gaze, because he knew point blank that Clint was not Iron Man.  
The man of iron in question had noticed, and had laughed and clapped him on the back. “Looking for me?” He would purr in his ear, before walking off. The others noticed the change, and Clint had gleefully informed him of a betting pool. Apparently Natasha had started it. He didn’t know what they were betting on though…

. . .  
. . .

A month. 

Four weeks. 

Forty eight days.

Nothing. Not a single hint, not a single little clue. He was no closer to finding out the true identity of Iron Man then when he’d first started. He was going insane, and to make matters worse, Iron Man was taunting him. Whenever it was just the two of them, on the field or within the confines of Avengers Tower, the red and gold Avenger taunted him. 

A head cant in his direction here.

A hip cocked to the side there.

A purred comment for his ears only everywhere.

It was enough to drive any man spare, and yet, he was no closer to finding out the truth. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many people he watched. He needed a clue, something to help him, anything, but he couldn’t ask Iron Man, because it would get him nowhere, the man would most assuredly not tell him a thing, content to watch him drive himself insane over the mystery that was the Man Of Iron. He paused.

He could ask Stark.

. . .  
. . .

“And what do I owe this pleasure Dear Captain?” Tony Stark greeted from behind the empty torso of an Iron Man suit. 

Steve hesitated in the doorway to Starks lab, not really knowing how to approach the man. “Er…I might…need some help.” He finally admitted, stepping into the room proper and approaching the genius billionaire, who paused with two small pieces of wire inches apart. 

“Help? From me?” Stark asked, sounding surprised. “What do you need? New phone? New laptop? New suit perhaps? Oh! I know, your very own Bat Mobile!” Stark rattled off, finishing with the wires and hastily stuffing them back into a small panel in the suits spine. Steve frowned in confusion at the last one, then shook his head. 

“No, I need some information.” He finally said, eyes darting about the room in case the object of his query decided to pop out from behind a computer terminal or something. Stark blinked, a little thrown and more than slightly disappointed. 

“Damn, I’ve been waiting for one of you guys to come here and ask me for a cool ride…Oh well, information you say?” He asked, standing and dusting off his worn and faded jeans, wondering over to a consol. “Information on what?” Stark asked, cracking his fingers. Steve swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to ask the one question he probably would never be able to take back, but paused. Stark raised a brow at him, questioning. 

“Er…” Was all Steve could manage. He was this close, this close to finding out at least something about Iron Man, but at the last second he chokes? “Come on Rogers, are you Captain America or aren’t you?” He asked himself. Steve heaves a fortifying breath and opens his mouth to ask, only to be interrupted before the first word could pass his lips.

“You want to know something about Iron Man, don’t you?” Stark asked, sounding by far more amused than Steve had ever heard him, and the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Am…am I that obvious?” He asked instead, sheepish. Stark snorted before grinning, rounding his little console to approach Steve with arms wide open. 

“Obvious? No. Transparent more like, but heck, I can’t judge.” Stark announced, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “To answer your rather predictable question, no, I’m afraid I can’t give you any dirty details on Iron Man, the guy would probably drop me off the top of the Tower if I did.” Steve slumped at the announcement, not really all that surprised. Stark squeezed his shoulder in support. “I can however, throw you a bone.” Steve frowned in confusion.

“…Why a bone?” He asked, more than slightly out of his depth. Stark blinked up at him, before rolling his eyes. 

“Figure of speech, meaning I can give you a hint or two.” He elaborated, amused. Steve blinked, than glanced sideways at Stark, who had detached himself from Steve’s shoulder to meander over to a sofa that had escaped his notice until now. 

“What’s the price?” He asked, dubious. Stark barked a laugh as he dropped onto the old looking sofa, absently patting Dummy the little robot that pottered over to fuss over his loose shoelace. 

“You wound me Captain! Me, demand something in return after helping out a friend? No, not demand, more like…Ask. Meaning, you have a choice, yes, no doesn’t matter, I won’t push the issue.” Stark drawled, waving his hand around, eyeing Steve, who shifted on his feet.

“Ok…What’s the…price?” He asked, not too sure how Stark’s mind worked. Stark grinned wolfishly.

“A date.” He purred. Steve felt his ears warm again, and he swallowed thickly.

“A…date?” He did not squeak, Captain America did not squeak. “But…You don’t like me!?” He sputtered, confused, slightly flattered and horrified all at once. Stark wiggled his brows.

“And how would you know that? You never asked. Mind you, it’s not entirely your fault, I am rather…Busy, but alas, it is what it is. So, Captain.” Stark trailed off, hazel eyes watching his every move like a predator would prey, causing Steve’s throat to constrict and heart rate to sky rocket. “I drop a hint or two…and you go on a date with me.” He finished with a smirk. Steve swallowed, eyes darting around the room, now almost praying for Iron Man to stumble upon him and save him from Stark.

“Er…” Steve stuttered, and all at once Stark’s expression seemed to close off. 

“I did say it was your choice, Captain. A friendly offer, that’s all it was.” Stark assured, standing from his space on the sofa and stalking back to his work. Steve watched in slight confusion. “You want a hint? He’s not just brawn, that guy has a mind like no other, and the best way to get to him is to appeal to that mind. Smart guys dig a challenge, ask him for some help on something, might show you something you’ve missed.” Stark said, waving him to the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to finish. Nice seeing you again, Captain.”

Steve left in a daze, not entirely sure of what had just happened. “He asked me out on a date…Stark likes me? Since when?” Steve thought, wondering back to the Avenger’s part of the Tower. He didn’t notice when he made it to the living room and dropped onto the sofa beside Clint, who was watching what appeared to be some sort of…Steve wasn’t sure, but it looked…violent. 

“You ok there Cap? You look rather…well, you look like your about to freak the fuck out.” Clint stated, leaning over and into his personal space. Steve swallowed and shook himself. 

“Yeah, I’m ok…Just a little, overwhelmed.” He assured his friend. Clint snorted.

“Iron Man molested you again, didn’t he?” The archer asked, sounded highly amused. Steve blushed, then scowled, folding his arms. 

“No, as a matter of fact he didn’t, I was just-” Clint interrupted him with,

“Someone’s touchy, what, he didn’t try to bust his moves on you, and that’s why your so-” 

“Who tried to bust moves on Cap?” Came a metallic voice from the doorway, and both Clint and Steve about launched into orbit.

“No one!” Steve yelped, almost falling off the sofa in an attempt to turn and see the newest arrival while Clint meeped and ducked the foot thrown his way. Iron Man stood in the doorway, armoured arms folded across his chest.

“…Ri~ght.” He drawled, sounded slightly confused at the uncharacteristic behaviour from not one, but two of the most composed Avengers. “Mind telling me what’s going on here? I just got chased out of a lab by my employers stare of doom, had a stack of papers thrown at me by a PMS’ing Widow, got an abusive phone call from Fury and now I’m getting the awkward dance from you two…” Iron Man remained in the doorway, glowing eyes staring at them as he shifted, his suit clicking and whirring. 

Steve glanced at Clint, who shrugged back. Steve scowled, Clint shook his head. Steve nudged Clint with his foot, Clint jerked his head in Iron Man’s direction. Steve shook his head almost violently, face horrified and Clint groaned. 

Iron Man threw his hands into the air. “What the hell! Didn’t anyone tell you two that silent conversations are rude?” Steve and Clint turned back and stared at him, causing the red and gold Avenger to glance down at his suit. “What? Did I forget to close my crotch plate or something?” He prodded said plate, causing Steve to slide sideways off the sofa and Clint to choke. 

“Dude!” The archer yelped, covering his eyes. Iron Man raised his hand in an aborted face palm. 

“Alright, fine, you know what? I’m going to go find some alcohol, everyone’s acting weird today.” With that, the Man of Iron turned and vanished into the hall, leaving Steve and Clint to stare at each other in awkward silence.


	2. Chapter 2

It was amusing. 

Very, oh so very amusing.

Honestly, he hadn’t had this much to snicker at in years. Captain America was obsessing over his secret identity. Captain America, obsessed. With him. It was just too funny. If anyone had a clue, and he was fairly sure the Team did, then the Captains mental state would be pulled into question, because really. Captain America, obsessed. 

With something no one was sure was in fact a someone or something. There were speculations going around on the net that Iron Man was merely a sentient robot with ingrained morals. Then there were the theories he was a cybernetic organism from space -someone watched far too much Transformers- the list was endless. He was really a She-Bot, He was really an It, It was really a He, it was insane. But he found it funny as hell.

And now Captain America was caught in the loop of speculation.

As time went on, however, he noticed an important detail he had missed. Captain America, Steve wasn’t just trying to figure him out. There was something else going on in the blond head of his. Then it all clicked into place, and he had had to excuse himself from the room to find a secluded corner to take his helmet off and hyperventilate in peace, away from the darkened blue eyes that watched his every move like a predator would its prey. 

Captain America, Steve Rogers, the freaking Man With A Plan was undressing him with his eyes, -well, trying too, God…Thor…Odin? Knew what he was coming up with- and was most certainly not being subtle about it. Thor was more subtle for Christs sake, and that guy had about as much subtlety as a…well, giant blond man clad in his mother’s bright red drapes flying around swinging a massive glowing hammer. 

Captain America was giving him bedroom eyes, and he, Iron Man had no idea what to do or make of it. Iron Man was an unknown, but who he was beneath the mask, beneath the red and gold, well. The man under it all was jumping in glee, practically vibrating with the urge to fist pump and jump the larger male. It was no secret in his own head, he had been a bit of a fan boy when he was younger, like a raging fan boy. He had posters of Captain America hung over his bed, he had the comics, an action figure, hell his father had even given him a photo of the man himself, seemingly proud that his son had taken such a shine to his ‘greatest creation’. Yeah, Captain America fan boy indeed. Thankfully he’d grown out of that stage…

Yeah, he’d grown out of the childish wonder and glee at anything Captain America, and had jumped right into the adult version of fan boying. Meaning the tall, cut man in the photo had suddenly started to look more like a hunk than a hero. Huh, teenage hormones, adult fantasies.

He had the real thing right in front of him on a daily basis.

And apparently the real thing was just as interested…

It was just a shame the guy would probably freak out if he ever learned who was beneath the armour, because he was pretty sure his father had probably done something stupid and named him godfather or something, and Steve didn’t exactly come off as a guy that would bone his honorary ‘son’ after all…

Then again, the good Captain was practically eye raping a suit of metal with no idea who or what –if anything- was beneath. It didn’t even look like he cared if there was anything there or not, the guy would still probably jump him…

Being Iron Man was getting complicated, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

. . .  
. . . 

It was a mystery to even himself why he did it. It just happened, and he for the life of him just couldn’t seem to regret it. It just made things more interesting. So when he’d wondered into the Avenger’s Kitchen looking for a snack that he could wolf down in private, only to get punted by none other than Captain America, well, he was a genius billionaire known for his flights of fancy.

Wanting to see just how far his good Captains ‘feelings’ went for him may have contributed to the events that followed. His own libido may have as well. 

So when he’d straddled the blond Captains lap and seen just how much of an affect something as simple as that had on the other man, well. He had watched as conflicting emotions passed through bright blue eyes, watched muscles spasm with the urge to touch, to grip, to grab to rend him apart. It had left him a little breathless, watching someone as powerful as Captain America damn well tear himself apart over little old him. 

Removing his gauntlets had seemed like a good idea at the time, but once his bare hands had touched the Captains-no, Steve’s flesh, he’d been lost. He had been expecting the normal give that skin often gave, maybe a slightly oily texture from the sweat the blond had worked up, the prickly spike of stubble under his palm maybe. He had left wondering how the hell human skin could be so damn soft. Whether it was just his own mind playing tricks on him because he fancied the guy, or just some weird by-product of the Serum the blond had flowing through his veins, one or the other Steve’s skin had been soft, not even the slightly spike of stubble, as if the guy was incapable of even growing it. So soft and so warm. It hadn’t been that long since he’d had human flesh to play with, Pepper had taken out the morning trash as per usual, a woman’s flesh was soft and supple most of the time, with careful and constant care and application of various creams and oils. Steve didn’t seem like the type to sit on the edge of a bathtub to rub himself down with cream, -oh hell, why did his brain have to go there? Down boy- hell, the guy used unscented shampoo and soap.  
So, it must have been the serum. But what if it wasn’t? Had mini-Steve had such soft skin? 

This was going to be the death of him. He was being eye-stalked by a guy who wanted to know him, to see him, to touch him, and he was just plain talking to a guy –thank you Jarvis- that he wanted to know, to touch.

It was twisted, it was weird, and it was just the way he liked it.

Hey, no one ever said Tony Stark didn’t always get what he wanted. 

So he couldn’t really be blamed when he left the kitchen with a hard on that threatened to dent his suit…

. . .  
. . .

Having to explain to a guy how to get into his own pants was…well, weird. Steve had come to him as Tony Stark, asking about his ‘employee’ Iron Man. It had been hard, simply because he had been fighting the urge to simply spring the truth right then and there because his libido was threatening to dent his armour on most days. And come on, Captain America was hot, and take away the cowl and the suit, and Steve Rogers was adorable, kind of like a curious kitten that would suddenly turn into a raging lion and maim anything remotely considered ‘proper’.

Hahaha, Steve as a lion…

Glowing white eyes glanced down at the fragile glass of amber liquid held gently in an armoured hand, hazel eyes blinking incredulously behind the metal. “What the hell.” Iron Man stated, before glancing around the empty rooftop bar and shrugging, helmet flicking back with a solid click, revealing the face of none other than Tony Stark, who promptly chucked back the rest of the scotch.  
“Jarvis, am I getting old?” Tony asked the air as he refilled his glass, helmet still back. 

‘Not at all sir, you are simply reaching the end of your prime.’ Was Jarvis’ dry reply. Tony blinked, deadpan, before snorting and refilling his glass. 

“I will never understand what possessed me to give you a sense of humour.” He huffed, downing half of the glass’ contents. His helmet beeped, signalling a call, and Tony sighed, his faceplate flipping back down with a click. “Iron Man’s Demolition Service, you name it, I’ll blast it.” He greeted gleefully. 

“Iron Man, there’s a situation, I’m sending you the coordinates.” Click. Tony snorted. 

“Boring, thy name is Fury.” He said, before chucking his glass over an armoured shoulder. “Oh well, nothing for it. Jarvis plot a course.” 

‘Already done sir.’ The A.I replied. Tony clicked his tongue before kicking off, his boots blasting to life with a roar that sent him air born. 

“Party time!” Iron Man cheered, soaring around Avenger’s Tower, AC/DC’s TNT blasting from his speakers. 

. . .  
. . .

Upon arriving at the coordinates Fury had sent him, the first thing to pass through his mind was ‘I’m in a freaking fairy-tale’.

Fire… 

There was fire everywhere; Tony had never seen so much God damn fire. He was sweating bullets in his suit, the cooling systems just weren’t cutting it, the heat from the fire was so hot the red and gold paint work was bubbling, and the armour was hissing and popping around him, the only thing protecting his skin from being horribly burnt was his leather under armour, but it was only a matter of time before his superheated armour melted through it. 

The fire hadn’t been started by normal means; he and the other Avengers were fighting the proof. A creature that could have been related to dragons, or the catalyst for the myth itself. It was huge, easily bigger than a bus, its scales so black it was like fighting darkness itself. Its wings were easily the length of a football field, and the talons on it were sharp enough to leave massive gouges in the road. 

The fire, God the fire, it was so hot it had to be some sort of hellfire or something, spewing forth from the Dragons mouth in a liquid stream that immediately set alight anything it touched.  
“Jarvis, make a note, gotta up the heat resistance in the Mark VIII, and maybe upgrade the cooling systems, I’m freaking roasting in here.” Tony said as he dove out of the way of the beast’s massive spiked tail.

‘Noted, sir.’ JARVIS replied, and Tony grunted in acknowledgement as he fired off several repulsor blasts into the creatures face, causing it to shriek in pain. It didn’t go down however, merely jerked itself away from the blasts, before swinging it’s massive head back around to present Tony with its gaping maw. Tony took one look at the razor sharp teeth and glowing throat and back peddled as well as one could while flying.

“Shit!” He cursed, cutting off all power to his jets, causing him to drop out of the sky like a stone, just in time to avoid a blast of liquid fire.

“Iron Man! Report!” Captain America’s worried voice crackled through his helmet as Tony blasted back into the sky, staying well away from the fire spewing mouth of the dragon. 

“Oh hey Cap, all good and toasty on this end, did I mention how much I hate dragons?” Tony replied, blasting away the beasts spiked tail when it tried to clobber him. 

“Man, I thought it would be cool to see a real dragon.” Hawkeye whined over the come and Tony glanced in his direction, spotting the archer perched high up on a nearby building, firing off explosive arrows when the opportunity presented itself. The beasts hide was almost too thick for any of Clint’s shots to pierce, but the skin under its extended jaw seemed to be soft enough, a good shot there would put this beastie down. 

“Yeah well you got your wish and it is not cool, in fact it is the opposite of cool, Hawkeye, it is hot; so hot I’m gonna need a nice cold bath after this, and maybe a rub down with Aloe, this is ridiculous. My Boss is gonna kill me for what this heat is doing to my suit!” Iron Man snarked as he looped under a flailing wing. “Hawkeye, aim for the throat.” Tony ordered as he dove between the dragons hind legs, clipping one with a repulse blast, causing the creature to stagger and roar, the sound loud enough to make his helmet ring. 

“Easier said than done, I need a line up!” Clint declared over the com, and Tony sighed long sufferingly as he dodged under a red and blue shield that bounced off the creatures snout, making it sneeze fire.

“Jeeze Cap, I think we’ve established your shield is useless, pick up a car or something.” Tony said as he dropped out of the air, landing with a loud crunch on the destroyed road. Captain America skidded to a stop beside him, and Tony spared the blond a quick once over. His cowl was gone, probably burnt off if the red skin and soot stains were anything to go by, nothing too bad. His uniform was nearly completely black it was covered in that much soot and ash, and Tony wondered briefly if Steve was immune to the dangers of smoke inhalation. “Alright, Cap?” Iron Man asked, and Steve glanced at him with bloodshot, watering eyes. For a moment Tony thought he was crying, but then realized with so much smoke and ash about, the poor blonds eyes were probably burning as hot as the fire.

“A little warm, but all things considered.” The other male said, coughing slightly at the end of the sentence, swiping a filthy glove over his eyes to wipe away the tears clouding his vision, really only succeeding in smudging a black line across his eyes, making him look sort of like a racoon. Tony frowned under his faceplate, but before he could do or say anything more his HUD started screaming at him. Without a second thought he grabbed hold of Steve and blasted into the sky just in time to avoid a jet of fire that splattered the ground where they had been standing. 

“Holy shit, watch where you’re breathing that crap!” Tony shouted down at the dragon, whose only reply was an enraged shriek that shattered the remaining street lights, casting the evacuated street into darkness, lit only by the raging fires. He felt Steve shift in his armoured arms, and he adjusted his grip and turned to face him. “This is getting a little out of hand.” The Iron clad Avenger declared as he turned back to the raging dragon, watching as Clint jumped off of his current rooftop to leg it across to another, the dragon too busy shrieking in pain from the electric shocks it was now getting from one of Clint’s newer arrows to give chase. Steve nodded, also watching the fight. 

“We need the Hulk.” The blond stated and Tony groaned.

“Why did Fury have to send him to Mexico, seriously!” he whined, speakers crackling in the heat. “And Thor, fuck he was supposed to be back two days ago!” He continued, firing off a barrage of mini missiles from his shoulder, the one Steve wasn’t currently clinging to. Thor would have been perfect for this job, and by hell the Asgardian would have had the time of his life, but unfortunately Thor had returned to Asgard at the behest of Odin, who was really, really pushing Tony’s last buttons with all his ‘mortals-should-be-left-to-their-own-affairs’ spiels Thor repeated back to them whenever he returned looking decidedly down. 

“Boy this thing likes fire, right?” Steve suddenly asked, and Tony snorted incredulously, using his unoccupied hand to gesture at the raging inferno below. 

“What do you think?” He asked sarcastically, the heat was making him cranky, and fuck his armour was hot as hell and he was holding onto Steve! He snapped his head to stare at the blond, panic widening his eyes. “Steve, fuck I’m hot, I’m so sorry!” He babbled as he tried to manoeuvre Steve in his arms so there was as little contact as possible, but Steve stubbornly clung on, and Tony noticed for the first time how pinched his expression was.

“It’s fine, I’ll heal, I can hardly feel much of it, Iron Man.” Steve said, trying for reassuring but instead coming off as mildly tense. Tony stared at him in shock.

“You can hardly…Steve that’s not a good thing!” Tony shouted as he cut power to his boots once more, dropping them both out of the air, only for them to blast back into life just before they hit the ground, slowing their descent. When the drop wasn’t so far Tony all but threw Steve away from him, before darting back towards the blond to check him over once more, grinding his teeth and cursing at the scorched sections of leather he could see, not even trying to imagine what kind of blisters would be under the ruined armour by the time Steve removed it. 

“It’s alright.” Steve tossed at him again as he charged off to help Clint, who had somehow managed to nearly hang himself with his bow trying to escape the dragons teeth. Tony sighed long sufferingly.  
“Jarvis, please tell me there’s good news. Cuz I could really go for some good right now.” He huffed, scanning the massive beast as it twisted this way and that as Steve tried to get around its bulk in order to help out Clint, who had somehow managed to land himself on the things back. 

‘Power is at 42%, sir.’ Was Jarvis reply, and Tony blanched. 

“That’s not good news Jarvis, ol’ buddy ol’ pal, that’s bad news, and bad news is you know…Bad. Cap!” Tony called, jetting into the air again. Steve swung around with Clint dangling almost comically over his shoulder, still somehow firing arrows at the dragon. “Good news or bad?” He called. Steve visibly sighed as he hauled himself and Clint outside the line of literal fire. Leaving the dragon to gleefully shove its massive claws through the side of an empty bus. 

“Good.” Steve stated first, depositing Clint on his feet beside him. Iron Man nodded.

“Right, good news is I’m at 42% power.” He replied candidly. Steve and Clint both stared at him. 

“I thought this was good news?” Clint asked, and Tony shrugged.

“Jarvis says it’s good news.” Tony replied, causing Clint to sigh explosively. Steve cursed as he glanced behind them to the raging dragon, which was now chewing on a decidedly expensive looking Ferrari. “Ok, ok seriously. Good news is I have an idea.” Tony said, causing Steve and Clint to sigh in relief. Tony hummed and folded his steaming armoured arms. “More bad news is, you ain’t gonna like it.” He said, looking pointedly at the Captain, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Well, what’s the plan then?” Clint asked, absently firing another arrow at the Dragon, who had decided to chew on a street lamp. Tony glanced from the archer to the Captain, his faceplate blank, but the face beneath grimacing at what he was about to say. 

“There seems to be a soft point in the Dragon’s armour. It’s throat, not the neck, the throat, right under its jaw bones. It’s a giant lizard right? A fire breathing one sure, but still a lizard. Lizards have soft spots on their throats and stomachs. Since getting to this particular lizards stomach is highly inadvisable, we’ll go for the throat. Meaning; I’ll be the distraction, while Cap can help Bird boy here get a shot.” There was silence from the two other Avenger’s. 

“First of all, I resent the bird dig, second of all, what the fuck!?” Clint exploded. Steve inwardly seconded that notion. Iron Man shrugged. 

“Do or die Clint, Cap. Either way I’m going to go give that over grown gecko something to bite at, whether you two go for the throat or not is up to you. In the mean-time, adios!” With that Tony took three steps back and blasted into the air, ignoring the indignant squawk from Hawkeye and the warning shout from the Captain. He was doing this, because he was sick of the heat, all he wanted was to go home, strip off and drown himself in an ice filled bath. Maybe the Cap would join him? Maybe in his dreams. 

He honed in on the raging Dragon, who had grown bored of the lamp post and was moving onto a record store with big flashing lights. “What is wrong with these people? There’s a Dragon tearing the street apart right outside their windows, and this idiot leaves his lights on?” Tony didn’t know whether to laugh or smack the idiot. With a long sigh, he activated his speakers and whistled. “Oi! Here boy! Or girl, whatever, hey you, fetch!” He called, sending a repulsor blast to the beasts back, drawing its attention away from the store and back to him. “That’s it ugly, come get me!” He called, swooping in close to kick the things snout before spinning out of the way of its retaliating claw. It roared deafeningly loud, causing his helmet to rattle unpleasantly around his head. “Hey, inside voice, jackass!” He shouted some more, randomly blasting the beast as he lead it further from the street and more into the neighbouring park. His HUD tracked Clint and Steve’s movement behind the Dragon, and he inwardly wished they would move faster. His suit was getting hotter, and his under layer had burned through somewhere near his ankle, he couldn’t really tell where, the pain had vanished to be replaced by an odd numbness. 

He ducked under a swiping claw but failed to see the tail that came after it. The air left his lungs in a painful woof as the tail connected with his chest, sending him hurtling through the air and into the charred remains of a tree. He coughed wetly, forcing himself to his feet. “Ow.” He groaned, before blasting into the air once more, surprising the towering beast with an uppercut to the chin. “Two for flinching!” He crowed, following the uppercut with a repulsor blast. 

‘Sir, power at 25%.’ Jarvis intoned in his ear, and Tony cursed. 

“Hurry up guys, running out of power here!” He shouted through his speakers. “Not much time le-oof!” He was cut off as a massive fore claw slammed into his chest, pushing him down and straight into the ground. He groaned as he heard several joints creak in protest at the massive weight, and he winced as his chest plate cracked and sparked ominously, his HUD flickering erratically. “Guys!” He shouted again, trying to wiggle free. Above him the Dragon roared in glee, its massive head lifting up to let a triumphant jet of fire free. 

Mistake.

A whistle, and suddenly the Dragon screamed in agony, claw lifting off of Tony to scrabble at the arrow lodged in its throat. He felt something latch onto his shoulders, and he groaned as his upper half was lifted, before the rest of him was being dragged rapidly backwards and away from the screaming beast. Not three seconds later, and the arrow in the Dragons throat flashed red, before exploding with a resounding boom. The Dragon’s screams abruptly cut off. 

He was hauled up and onto his feet, and he twisted his helmeted head to see Captain America himself standing with a hand gripping his shoulder like a life line. “Please don’t ever do something as stupid as that again.” The Captain huffed between breaths. Iron Man snorted, wincing as the motion caused his ribs to throb in protest. 

“Ow.” He groaned, raising an arm to wrap around his armoured midsection. “Yeah, getting stepped on by a Dragon is not really on my list of fun-things-to-do.” He snarked. Steve rolled his eyes with a fond smile. 

“Wait here, I’ve gotta go help Clint out of the tree he fired from.” He said, hand lingering on his shoulder before he turned and made his way over to a rather large and shockingly unburnt tree with a Clint shaped shadow hanging from a branch. 

After Clint had been rescued from the tree, Steve and Iron Man wondered over to the remains of the Dragon. Unsurprisingly the carcass was still intact, but its sides were still, no rising and falling of breaths. Finally, he could go home and take that bath. “Well done Team.” Steve said, slapping Clint on the back and resting a hesitant hand on Iron Man’s charred shoulder. 

“Bath. I want a bath. And a drink.” Clint moaned, turning and slumping his way towards Avengers Tower. Tony snorted, before glancing at Steve with an unseen leer.

“While we wait for the clean-up crew to get their arses out here, how about a question, Cap.” Tony leaned against Steve’s shoulder, armour glinting in the smoky light. Steve shifted minutely under his weight, before clearing his throat nervously. 

“What kind of question?” He asked cautiously. Iron Man shrugged, the grin beneath the faceplate practically projected by the air. 

“Do you top, or bottom?” He asked, and Captain America promptly choked on his own spit, shoving the iron clad Avenger away, his face and neck blazing red. 

“Iron Man!” He sputtered. The other Avenger waved his armoured hand flippantly. 

“Relax, I was only joking. Jeeze, you need to loosen up some there Cap. Releasing tension is as easy as breathing if you know how.” The Iron clad Avenger purred, before dancing out of the way of a soot stained shield that had been raised to whack him. 

“Please just shut up.” Steve moaned, burying his burning face in his singed gloves. Iron Man snickered, before choking mid laugh as something red suddenly flashed and screeched on his HUD, giving him all of a second to react, shoving Steve back hard before everything was suddenly in motion, and his lunch threatened to make a reappearance as his world span rapidly, his HUD flashing erratically before everything suddenly stilled, his display going completely black. A curious cold was seeping into his midsection, and Tony for the life of him couldn’t figure out what it was. His cooling systems were fried, and located on his back for a start, so it wasn’t that. 

His head swam after the ride, and he groaned, his head swimming with blurring colours and muted sound. Something was jostling him, and with effort on his part, Tony peeled open his eyes, peering into the blackness of his helmet.

“an!...Ir…man! Iron Man!” His suit was being jostled quite roughly, and it was starting to make him very aware of a strange, coldly burning pain somewhere near his stomach. “Iron Man, can you hear me!?” The tinny voice echoed through his helmet, and it took him a moment to realise he was hearing none other than Steve Rogers.

“Jarvis?” He gurgled, wincing at the thick taste of blood in his mouth. 

‘Still here sir, a moment.’ The A.I replied, and several seconds later his display lit up, flickering oddly at the edges but there all the same. Steve came into view, and Tony winced at the terrified edge the blonds eyes had taken. He struggled to lift an arm, and attempted to wave the man off. He was fine. His attempted wave ended up being more of a pathetic flop, but it was a successful gesture none the less. 

“M’fine.” He slurred, and he watched with a detached sort of amusement as Steve’s face transformed from terrified to incredulous, annoyed fondness to downright panicked. He was looking at something out of Tony’s view, something somewhere on his lower armour. Around his stomach area actually, which was really starting to worry him. 

“Iron Man!” His helmet wrung with an odd thunk, and belatedly he realized his faceplate had just been smacked. “Stay awake, you’re losing a lot of blood.” Steve informed him. Tony blinked sluggishly. Oh. Oh. That’s what that weird not-pain-but cold-and-painful feeling was!

‘Sir scans show several minor bruises and lacerations to limbs and torso, a not so minor burn to your left ankle, and not to alarm you sir, but a fragment of the Mark VIII’s armour came loose in the collision, and has pierced your left abdominal. I have already taken the liberty of calling emergency services.’ 

Tony blinked. Wow. “No wonder it hurts.” He mumbled. “Hey Cap?” He called, instantly having the man’s blue eyes focused on him. Such pretty blue eyes. “Can you’d me a ‘uge favour?” He asked, his words slurring together. “Can yeh pull the chunk of suit out?” He asked, or more accurately gurgled. He’d lost a fair amount of blood, he was guessing, judging by his complete lack of verbal finesse.  
“I can’t do that, it’s the only thing slowing the bleeding right now, I take it out, you’re as good as dead.” Steve growled. Tony groaned. He was roasting in his suit, breathing was becoming difficult and he was certain that if he so much as twitched the suit fragment in his stomach would do more damage, and cause more pain. He really hated his life sometimes. “Hold on Iron Man, help should be here soon, if not I’ll carry you to the hospital myself.” Steve vowed seriously, and Tony didn’t think for a second the blond wouldn’t do it. 

‘Sir, your vitals are critical, if your condition becomes any worse you will have to eject from the suit so Captain Roger’s can attend you.’ Jarvis announced, and Tony cursed. ‘Sir, forgive me, but I believe your life is more important than your identity, and I will eject you from this suit with or without your permission.’ The A.I declared, and Tony groaned long sufferingly, which in turn had Steve turning a little whiter. 

“What is it? What else is wrong?” He asked, hands flitting over his suit uselessly. Tony smiled in amusement, lips wet with his blood. 

“Jarvis ‘s jus bein’ an arse.” He slurred. Steve blinked down at him, before raising his head to look around them. Clint was long gone, the Dragon was now headless thanks to Steve’s shield, and there was no sight of any form of emergency service. 

“Where are they?” Steve snarled, body vibrating like a spooked animal. Tony didn’t like seeing Steve like this, he was Captain America, he was supposed to be strong and confident, a light in the darkness, a leader anyone could follow. Right now he looked small, frightened…desperate. 

‘Sir-’

“Fine.” Tony sighed, breath rattling in his chest as his vision started to darken at the edges. “Hey, Steve?” He started, clearing his throat of blood, wanting to be clear. The blond hadn’t moved, and those frightened blue eyes were staring his faceplate right in the eyes. “M’sorry.” He breathed, before a loud click broke the silence between them, rapidly followed by a series of whirs. Tony could vaguely feel his armour hiss before parting from the middle to retreat down his sides. The same happened to his arms and legs, the suit seeming to fall away and fold into itself under him, leaving him cradled by its mold. He could see Steve’s eyes widen almost comically as piece by piece his suit fell away, revealing the charred, skin tight body suit beneath. His HUD went black, and just as his vision was about to follow, his helmet’s emergency removal catch flicked and his clammy face was met with a blast of warm smoky air and a sharp intake of breath.

Then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger! Please don't kill me? Ok, I know I only posted this today, but I have noticed how many hits its getting, (OVER 300 FTW!), and the steady climb in Kudos and Bookmarks. Can you maybe comment as well? I like feedback, and ideas are welcome, questions too, I just want to know if this fic is worth continuing through you guys. So, COMMENT! Please?


	3. Chapter 3

When he came too, the first thing Tony became aware of was the draft. 

“…Chilled instead of boiling, point for dramatic change in scenery. Now why am I naked?” Tony thought to himself, quit well versed in the art of nudity under the sheets, and able to tell that yes, he was indeed naked…or in a hospital gown, but that wasn’t much better, in fact, that was the opposite of better, because last he checked he’d been in his suit. Where was his suit? Why wasn’t he in it? Who the hell had pried it off him? Sweet merciful Thor where was Steve? “Shit, if he hasn’t seen me yet he will, crap!” Hazel eyes flew open, only to scream bloody murder in his brain and snap back shut. “Ow.” He croaked, lifting a shaky hand to rub his poor burning eyes. Eyes that should be hidden by his faceplate. Hell. 

Removing his hand, Tony began to pull himself into a sitting position before a loud, static throat clear had him pausing on his elbows. 

‘I would highly suggest against that, sir. It took the medical staff three hours to stabilize you and stop the bleeding, I do not think they would be at all pleased if you were to undo all their hard work by being your usual annoying self. And I am under strict orders to ensure you do nothing to further damage yourself.’ Jarvis’ voice drifted over him from the ceiling, and Tony groaned before dropping back onto what he now understood was a hospital bed. 

“Jarvis, where’s my suit?” He asked, rubbing his face with both hands, grimacing at the stubble that was creeping out around his immaculately groomed beard. 

‘Safe, sir.’ Was the A.I’s entirely unhelpful reply. Tony groaned.

“Jarvis.” He warned. He was met with silence. “Traitor.” He groused, before deciding if his own creation wasn’t going to listen to him, he would return the favour. Being slightly more careful now that he knew he was indeed injured, Tony eased himself upright, wincing as the skin around his stomach pulled and pinched while something inside him shifted painfully. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.” Tony hissed as he gripped the white sheet and tossed it aside, exposing the plain light blue hospital gown beneath. 

‘Sir.’ Jarvis warned, and Tony childishly stuck his tongue out at the air. 

“Stuff it, Jarvis.” He snapped, twisting so his legs dangled over the edge of the bed. With a care that would have had him scoffing at himself had he not been in so much pain, Tony eased himself to the edge of the bed, before sliding until his feet touched the cold floor. He hissed at the cold, and noticed for the first time the swathe of bandages around his ankle, where he remembered an intense burning pain during the fight. He scowled down at his foot, before looking up and searching the room for any signs of his suit, or at least a pair of pants. He spotted the charred remains of his under suit hurriedly tossed over the back of a chair. Upon closer inspection, he noticed it had been sliced open, clean up the middle. “Great, he saw, he had to.” He huffed. “I’m screwed.” 

‘Sir, do calm yourself, further stress will only be detrimental to your health and recovery.’ Jarvis advised, and Tony grit his teeth in anger. 

“What’s detrimental to my health, Jarvis; is Steve knowing who I am. Not just Steve, but the world! Fuck Jarvis, has it leaked yet?” He asked, reaching around to try and tie his gown closed so his bare arse wasn’t exposed to the chilled air. 

‘Your identity remains a mystery, sir. Certain people made it very clear to the medical staff that if the media caught wind of Iron Man’s identity, they would and I quote, ‘Rain down some fucking hell.’ Tony paused.

“Who would those certain people be, Jarvis?” He asked, not entirely sure what to make of ‘certain people’ knowing who he was. Jarvis paused, which had Tony scowling at the air in front of him.   
‘Fury, sir.’ Jarvis finally answered, and Tony choked on his own spit.

“Fury!? How the hell does he know who I am?” He spluttered, whirling around to search the room for some form of surveillance. “I’ve been spied on by the worlds super spy, what the hell Jarvis? You’re supposed to be able to pick up on these things!” Tony snapped. Jarvis remained silent for a moment.

‘Originally sir, I had been aware, but certain points were made, and my processor came to the conclusion that would be best to benefit you. Sir, you created me to help you, to be there for you, to protect you. An argument was made, and in the end I decided that this would be the best course to ensure your continued safety.’ Tony stared off into space for several long moments before he exploded.

“What the fuck Jarvis! I created you to look after me, not to turn on me!” He snarled, before grimacing as the action twisted his stomach and made his head spin. He groaned and sat back on his bed, hand holding his head as the room span. 

‘I am not sorry sir, my decision saved your life, as was its purpose.’ Jarvis intoned solemnly. Tony waved a hand viciously in the air, signalling for silence. 

“Whatever. Who could have possibly persuaded you to betray your coding, Jarvis?” He asked, resigned. 

“That would be me, Mr Stark.” Tony jumped, startled at the unexpected and entirely too familiar voice. He didn’t bother turning around to see who it was, he already knew.

“Of course it was.” He groused, removing his hand from his head to drop it in his lap. “So what now, Natasha? You gonna blackmail me into your little boy band? Fury’s been trying to get me to build him war ending weapons for some time now.” He snapped. He stared ahead and out the window of his room, not even glancing at the red headed agent and who he thought of as a friend stepped into his view. Natasha didn’t look at him any different than when he interacted with her as Iron Man, but he could see a softer edge to her wine coloured eyes. 

“I’m not here to blackmail you into anything, Tony.” She said softly. “I convinced Jarvis to tell me who you were for one reason and one reason only. Iron Man is a part of the Avengers, a part of the team. That makes you, Tony Stark, a part of the team as well. You are Iron Man, you are an Avenger, you are my friend, with or without the armour.” She said, moving to sit gently beside him. Tony glanced at her suspiciously, not really knowing if he should trust her after everything she had done. Her reasoning sounded like a too-good-to-be-true scenario, but the Iron Man part of him told him she was a friend, she could be trusted. Tony Stark didn’t trust anyone easily, but as Iron Man, he had gotten to know Natasha Romanov, and it was influencing his decision.

“Why me? Outside the armour I’m just the rich asshole who makes your fancy toys.” He said. Natasha looked at him, her brows furrowed, and Tony resisted the urge to run for cover, because when Black Widow frowned at you, it was best to hide, friend or foe. 

“I don’t have many friends, Tony, there’s too much red in my life for that to be possible, but you treated me like you would any other comrade, you treated me like you didn’t see the red, like to you, it didn’t exist.” She said, voice firm and unyielding. “It might not seem like a big deal to you, but to me it made you special. You are my friend, Tony Stark, Iron Man, and I protect my friends. Fury knows this, and he knows better than to come between me and those few people I trust. Jarvis knows this, and that is why he helped me help you, he knew I wanted to protect you too.” She finished, voice sincere. Tony stared at her with narrowed hazel eyes, before he sighed explosively and did what he would have done as Iron Man. 

He reached over and pet her thigh. The reaction was instantaneous. His hand was grabbed and he was flipped backwards until he was sprawled half on and half off the bed. He barked a laugh, which soon turned into a wheeze has his stomach pinched. Natasha appeared before his face, upside down from his point of view. She was smirking.

“And that was gentle, seeing as you’re injured, but it’s good to have you back, Iron Man.” She said, smirk still in place. She ruffled his already tussled hair before making for the door. Before she left however she turned to watch him over her shoulder. “The Captain didn’t see, as I promised Jarvis, I protect my friends.” With that, she was gone, and Tony was left gawking at the empty doorway in confused disbelief. 

“Jarvis?”

‘Yes sir?’ The A.I replied, sounding amused. Tony blinked.

“What the hell just happened?” He asked dazedly. Jarvis was silent for a moment.

‘I believe sir, you accepted Miss Romanov’s reasoning, and she accepted your gesture of forgiveness with minimal harm to your person.’ The A.I replied, computerized voice thick with amusement. Tony blinked.

“Oh, is that all?” He asked, incredulous. He sobered quickly however as another thought came to mind. “Jarvis, how did Steve not see me? He was right there when my helmet disengaged.” It had been nagging at him since he’d woken up, if Steve had seen him, why hadn’t he come and said something? Yell at him, accuse him, judge him, anything?

‘…Miss Romanov came onto the scene as your suit was disassembling, and a second before your helmet was discharged, she surprised Captain Roger’s with an efficient knock-out blow.’ The A.I detailed, before falling silent. The room was silent for all of a second before Tony burst out into incredulous laughter. 

“Oh my freaking God, she kicked him in the head!” He howled, clutching his sides as he laughed hard enough his stomach and ribs protested. He wheezed and laughed at the same time, belatedly realizing his mirth probably sounded like a dying animal. “Poor Cap!” He wheezed, suddenly relieved and giddy. He was safe. Steve didn’t know. Yes, Natasha and Fury knew, but something told him it wouldn’t leak, nothing would come of it. Steve didn’t know, he still had a chance.  
. . .  
. . .  
“I told you I was sorry, Captain.” Natasha repeated, easily keeping step with him as he stalked along a hall in Avengers Tower. Steve scowled, stopping in the middle of the hall to glare at the red head, who appeared very unapologetic, and very unaffected by his patent ‘I’m-Captain-America-And-I’m-Disappointed-In-You’ glare. “It was to protect his identity, Captain. I’m sorry, but you can only know when he is ready for you to know.” She continued, and Steve felt his glare lesson, before disappearing entirely. He sighed explosively. 

“Natasha.” He started, rubbing his face in his hand. He was interrupted.

“I know, Steve.” She said gently, placing a hand on his arm, before continuing up the hall towards the rec room. Steve watched her go, stricken. He’d been this close, ‘this’ close. He’d been so afraid he was going to lose him, there’d been so much blood, and if he was going to lose him, he had just wanted to see his face just once before it was lost forever. 

“He’s fine, he’s alive.” He told himself as he shook his head and followed after Natasha. The back of his head was still sore after the shock blow she had delivered a split second before Iron Man’s helmet had come off, and he had been so angry when he’d woken up in his rooms in the Tower, patched up and in clean clothes with no Park and no Iron Man in sight. But he understood her reasons, he truly did, he had no right to be angry with her for protecting a friends greatest secret. It did not however lesson the blow. He’d wanted so bad to know who Iron Man really was, he’d been searching for him for so long, picking apart any man he saw until he was left with nothing that reminded him of his armour clad obsession.

He didn’t know when Iron Man would be cleared from Shields medical wing, his wound had been severe, and he had about had a heart attack when the doctors had told him he’d flat lined twice before they were able to stabilize him. Iron Man had died, twice and he’d been able to do nothing but take his frustrations out on a punching bag in the towers gym. This was going to be the death of him. Red Skull, Hydra, Loki, Aliens, they were nothing in comparison to what Iron Man was putting him through, knowing or not. He was slowly breaking trying to unravel the mystery that was Iron Man. 

But it wasn’t a mystery anymore. He still didn’t know who Iron Man really was, but really…It didn’t matter. Iron Man was Iron Man, and he’d almost died, he had actually, twice in fact, and maybe that had been the deciding factor somewhere deep in Steve’s subconscious. Iron Man had died, only to come back, and he’d almost lost him. Obsessing over finding the truth, finding out who the man was when he already knew. Iron Man was one of his Avengers, a part of his team, his friend, a good if slightly fickle man who probably did like sweets, who probably loved the water and who probably did like fast cars.

He didn’t need to know the truth, Steve realised. He knew the man in the mask, he didn’t need to know the man behind it if his searching took away his time to actually be with the armour clad Avenger. He’d just have to hold onto the hope that a relationship could be made with the man in armour. 

“He’ll tell me when he’s ready…And I’ll wait.” Steve thought, mind clear for the first time in a long time. Having come to the decision to stop looking, to let the truth come to him in its own time…it was freeing. It was as if a great weight had been lifting of his shoulders. He didn’t need to search for Iron Man, when it was very possible the red and gold Avenger would come to him. His mother had always told him, good things come to those who wait. 

So, he’d wait.

. . .  
. . .

Patience, Steve discovered, was only one of his virtues when it wanted to be. 

One week, one entire, hair pulling week he’d waited. Still no sign of Iron Man. The Avenger was injured, yes, but Natasha had told him Shield had cleared him two days ago, and that he should be in the Tower resting now. 

Iron Man had his own floor in the Tower just like every other Avenger, located on the floor just below Tony Starks, so it wasn’t as if the armoured Avenger was that far away, but no one had seen him. Or Stark, for that matter. It was entirely possible the genius was working on repairing the severely damaged suit that had been brought back to the Tower after the fight to save Iron Man’s life, and the man was known for his three day inventing benders as Clint called them, in which case the billionaire wouldn’t emerge from his labs once for the length of three days, and it was left to his assistant director Miss Pepper Potts to force feed him food.

Iron Man was still a no show, and it was yanking on his sanity. He wanted to try for something between them, and as time went on and Iron Man still refused to show himself, his nerve dwindled. At this rate he’d probably have a nervous breakdown trying to contain himself while Iron Man recovered, and by god if Clint didn’t stop smirking knowingly at him he would strangle the idiot with his own bowstring.

. . .  
. . .

“Wonderful friends, I have returned!” Came a booming voice from the balcony, and Steve looked up from his soggy cereal to see Natasha flick the newspaper in her hands. 

“Thor’s back.” She stated mater of factly, and Steve watched in amusement as Clint blinked down at his pop tarts, before beginning to wolf them down in such a hurry he choked twice. Just as the archer swallowed Thor stomped into the kitchen, a sunny grin on his bearded face.

“Friends, I return with wonderful news!” The God of Thunder exclaimed, dropping himself into a free chair at the kitchen table. Steve rolled his eyes as Clint crowded over his last remaining pop tart, attempting to protect it from the pop tart monster that was Thor. 

“And what would that be, Thor?” Natasha asked, folding her newspaper to sip at her coffee. Thor clapped his hands together and grinned brighter.

“The All-Father has granted me my request! At long last I will be able to remain here on Midgard and aid my friends in its protection!” He announced, and for some odd reason Steve half expected the giant blond to flail in glee. See? Giant blond teddy bear. 

“That’s great news, Thor.” Steve said, smiling at the other blond as the larger male stood and made his way to the pantry, and Clint wilted in his seat as the God found the last box of pop tarts squirreled away behind the cereal boxes. 

“Indeed yes, and I wish to celebrate this occasion with a mighty feast tonight, ale and the finest foods for all of my friends!” The Thunderer announced, raising the box high in the air as he threw his hands up in a weird sort of double fist pump, almost taking out the light fixture above the fridge. Natasha hummed in thought as she took a bite of her raisin toast. 

“I suppose a party wouldn’t be remise, it has been a while since we all last relaxed and had fun.” She said, sounding pleased with the idea. Clint nodded sagely in his seat as he swallowed the last of his pop tart. 

“Alcohol, and lots of it.” He said, before belching. Steve wrinkled his nose at the noise while Thor burst into uproarious laughter, clapping the archer on the back.

“Then it is decided, feast and ale tonight! And we must play the Man of Irons Game Of Kings!” The God exclaimed happily, before pausing. “As I speak of him, I do not see him. Where is the Man of Iron? He is usually keen for celebrations.” The large male asked, looking around the kitchen as if Iron Man was about to pop out of a cupboard. He was met with silence, before Steve cleared his throat.

“Iron Man is recovering from an injury.” He told the other blond, who straightened at the news. 

“The Man of Iron is injured? Why did no one tell me such? It must have been a glorious battle to have made a mark on my cunning comrade!” He announced, because Thor could not just ‘say something’, it had to be heard by the heavens. Steve thinned his lips slightly as he remembered the battle with the Dragon, but it was Clint who grinned and patted the blond on the arm.

“It was awesome, we fought a Dragon!” The archer said, looking entirely too gleeful for someone who had done nothing but complain about having to fight a fire breathing dragon. Steve decided to voice as much.

“You didn’t think it was so awesome while we were fighting it.” He said, deadpan, and Natasha snorted, not having been at the fight due to Fury’s insistent nagging. Clint stuck his tongue out at him, and Steve scowled good naturedly. Thor blinked between them.

“What is a Dragon? We do not have these in Asgard.” He asked, confused. Clint snorted.

“A Dragon, Thor, is a giant, flying, fire breathing, carnivorous lizard with lots of pointy teeth and a mean streak a mile wide.” He answered, and Thor’s eyes about popped out of his head they were so wide. 

“This beast, I must do battle with it! A creature such as the one you describe would surely present me with a worthy challenge!” The God boomed, and Steve face palmed. 

“It’s dead, Thor.” Natasha told the eager blond, who deflated at the news. Clint snickered. 

“Yeah, Cap here got pretty pissed off when it hurt Iron Man, so he cut its damn head off.” He said, grinning at Steve, who brandished his spoon threateningly. Thor turned to Steve, who was trying to hide his scowl behind his glass of orange juice. 

“My friend, it is an honourable thing indeed, to avenge the one you love.” Orange juice erupted from Steve’s lips in a loud spray at the words, and Clint stuffed his fist into his mouth to stop from laughing as the blond choked horribly on his orange juice. Thor looked confused, not sure if he should aid his choking friend or say something more. Natasha calmly stood from her chair and rounded the table, gently pushing the towering blond aside to smack Steve on the back. 

“He hasn’t figured it out yet, Thor.” The red head told the God, who ‘ohed’ his understanding. 

Clint fled the room when he couldn’t take anymore, his laughter bouncing off the walls as he fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A light hearted chapter to balance out the gloomy ending to the second chapter. Not to worry though, its not turning into crack. Next chapter will get things back on track with more Tony/Iron Man feels and maybe some one man show action to release some tension. No promises though! 
> 
> God I love Thor :P


End file.
